Perseid
by cariad3
Summary: Ron, Hermione, a blanket, and some stars


On a warm August night, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger lay side by side in an isolated field on a spread-out quilt, a flask of warm tea by their side. It was just past midnight, and silence lay over the field like a blanket. The sky was pitch black, save for the muted glow of twinkling starlight, and they were far away from the lights of the nearest town. Their hands were intertwined, and they stared up at the stars, waiting.

"Did you know, Ron," said Hermione, an authoritative tone to her voice, "that the Perseids are also called the Games of Lugh."

Ron grunted noncommittally.

"You see, Lugh was the Celtic God of Light, and the Celts thought the meteor shower was Lugh playing games with the stars in the sky."

"Fascinating, Hermione," replied Ron, rolling his eyes. She punched him smartly in the shoulder.

"OW!" yelled Ron. "What was that for?"

"I don't have to see you to know you're rolling your eyes at me, Ronald," replied Hermione tartly. Ron rolled his eyes again, and Hermione once more raised her hand to jab at his shoulder. Anticipating her movement, he grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips.

"What was that for?" asked Hermione quietly. Ron didn't reply as he kissed his way up her arm, her shoulder, her neck. Hermione tilted her head to the side in both a suggestion and in invitation. She sighed as Ron lingered there, fascinated by the feelings he could elicit from her. She felt the cool summer breeze against her neck when he left it, kissing his way around her face. First one cheek, then the other. Her nose. Her forehead. Even her chin. He deliberately avoided her lips, and she twisted her face towards his, frustrated. He pulled away altogether and propped himself up on his elbow, laughing gently.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her already labored breathing become a snort of anger. "What are you smirking at?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing, Miss Granger," he smiled. "Just Miss Prim and Proper Prefect spread out on a blanket in the middle of a field. Who would have thought?"

Hermione's chocolate-brown eyes softened as she lay back and looked up at the sky once more. "In pre-Zoroastrian India, it was thought that the shooting stars were female angels, carrying messages from heaven to earth." Ron slipped his hand into Hermione's small one once more, rubbing her palm with his thumb. "And," Hermione continued, "the Perseid was considered an integral part of... um... the Egyptian... oh, dear... Lychnapsia. Ron! What are you doing?"

Ron's thumb had left Hermione's palm and was now slowly making its way up the side of her body, teasing her curves as he made his way back up to her neck.

"I would think that would be fairly obvious to the brightest witch of our age," Ron said, arching an eyebrow at her. Hermione opened her mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it. She fell back again to the blanket, staring heavenward and allowing herself to enjoy Ron's touches. Shivers danced up and down her spine as his hands lingered near her breasts, teasing her. She sighed with contentment.

"The Arabs thought that the stars were being hurled from the skies by the angels to stop the Jinn from climbing up the constellations to take a peek at heaven," she continued in a lecturing tone.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron in an exasperated voice.

"Yes?" She turned to look at him, and almost laughed at the look of frustration on his features.

"I didn't ask you out here so that you could school me on the history of the Perseid showers."

"No?" asked Hermione softly. Ron shook his head, his red locks falling into his face. Hermione reached up and gently brushed them back. "Why did you ask me here, then?" she asked shyly, a blush creeping up her face.

Ron fell backwards onto the blanket, and took a deep, steadying breath. Hermione leaned over and peered into his blue eyes, concern now covering her features.

"Ron?"

Just then, it happened. The stars began dancing in the cloudless sky, ribbons of light gracefully following the descent. It was as if the entire sky was falling, as showers of stars fell above them, and behind them, and before them, bathing them in the eerie luminescence. The sparks illuminated the firmament brilliantly, glittering like a billion ny fairy lights. Ron and Hermione were stunned into silence.

After what seemed like an eternity of staring at the aurora, Ron stirred. "Don't forget to make a wish, love," he said thickly. Hermione gazed over at him, surprised to see that he had left his position lying down on the blanket, and was now sitting up on his knees.

"A wish?" she asked confusedly. She looked up at the sky. "Why would I need to make a wish? Everything I want is right here," She sat up and kissed him gently on his cheek. Ron closed his eyes.

"Erm... Hermione... um..." his voice trailed off. "Bloody hell," he murmured under his breath.

Hermione looked up at him with concern. "All right there, Ron?" she asked.

Ron looked up at the stars, still falling from the sky. "They're really something, aren't they?" he asked her. "They're like... I don't know... lanterns." Hermione looked at Ron with something akin to amusement. It wasn't like him to wax poetic. "Yeah, lanterns," he continued, thinking hard about what to say next. "Every time you see a falling star, Hermione, you should think of it like that- as a lantern."

"And why would I need a lantern, Ron?" she asked, curious as to his change of demeanor.

"To lead you back to me," he said simply, a sheepish look on his face.

Hermione smiled a shy smile. "What would I be doing away from you in the first place, silly?" she asked, looking up at him through her thick eyelashes.

Ron reached into his pocket. "That's why I wanted to ask you- to be sure that you never are away from me, love," He opened the box. "Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"

For once in her life, Hermione was silent. She simply nodded as Ron placed the ring, which sparkled more brightly than any star in the sky, on her finger. Hermione looked in wonder at the glittering diamond surrounded by tiny sapphires, glowing like a beacon that would always lead her home to Ron. He kissed her lips, gently at first, and then with more passion and purpose. They fell back on the quilt together, bathed in the light of a million falling stars, all things outside of themselves forgotten.


End file.
